


The Cougar

by nokabrenna



Category: Nevermore Series - Kelly Creagh
Genre: Banter, Drabble, Family Fluff, Gen, I Tried, i guess, if learning to drive counts, minor Brad bashing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:54:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26799142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nokabrenna/pseuds/nokabrenna
Summary: A bunch of scenes about Varen learning to drive the Cougar, and about Isobel learning to drive the same.
Relationships: Bruce (Nevermore)& Varen Nethers, Isobel Lanley & Varen Nethers, Isobel Lanley/Varen Nethers, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	The Cougar

**Author's Note:**

> I said I'd be back with more Nevermore! Happy October!
> 
> This is an attempt at expressing what learning to drive is kinda like. Not really fluff, but I guess building memories?  
> Rating is G, except I curse. 
> 
> Time skips indicated by asterisks.

“Today,” Bruce had coughed, “I’m going to teach you how to drive.”

“What?” Varen had said, tearing his nose away from the collection of sonnets he was reading.

“Your old man paid for driver’s ed, right?”

“Yes...”

“And you’ve got your permit, right?”

“Yes..”

“I’m teaching you how to drive.”

***

Isobel was sitting on the couch, trying to help Danny with one of his video game puzzles. It mostly consisted of her telling him he was an idiot, and him responding that she was a dumb cheerleader, and how had she managed a diploma anyways? Apparently, being thirteen going on fourteen did not come with additional maturity. She would have preferred to be hanging out with her friends, but Gwen was in Israel with her parents for a graduation trip, Stevie was off at some ritzy summer camp as a counselor, and Nikki had her job at the local American Eagle. After that horrible winter two years ago, her parents had enforced some “needed” sibling bonding time. Which was a habit Isobel begrudgingly maintained (hey, the summer between junior and senior year, she’d needed whatever babysitting money she could scrounge for back-to-school). Which had eventually led to Isobel managing to take some interest in Danny’s games, if only because it was something other to do than homework and wishing that she could properly make out with her boyfriend. Who had said he was going to call, but hadn’t yet. Hopefully his father hadn’t flipped out or anything.

“The guy’s gonna brain you,” she said lazily. Danny’s character had barely a heart left, and he was furiously button-mashing his character into an evasive dance.

“I know that!”

“Well, then, hit him! He’s got three hearts left, it can’t be that bad.”

“It is when it’s a _boss_ battle.”

“Hit him harder then.”

“And leave myself open to a counter-attack? No thanks.”

Isobel scoffed, preparing to make another scathing comment when her phone rang. She fumbled for it, and managed to grab it before she could lose it in the couch cushions. Her heart swelled in her throat when she saw the caller ID. She pushed the accept button, and put it to her ear. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” Varen replied. “What’s Danny playing?”

“Something something ‘Legend.’ I think it’s got a reference to F. Scott Fitzgerald’s wife in it?”

He chuckled. Isobel felt her insides warm. “Seems you were paying some attention in Lit.”

Okay, it was official, Isobel was officially made of goo. “Yeah, well, I had to impress this guy who’s a huge literary nerd, so—”

Even though it was over the phone, she could see him smiling. “I was calling to wonder if you had any free time today?”

“Oh, geez. Between watching my brother play games or cyberstalking my friends, my schedule’s pretty full.”

“Not too full to spend some time with your boyfriend?”

“Nope.” _Way to play it cool, Lanley._

“Good. Quick question—you have your driver’s license, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I was going to take you for a drive.”

***

“1967 Mercury Cougar,” Bruce coughed. “GT package. A shinier version of the Ford Mustang.”

The black vehicle didn’t seem so impressive. It wasn’t so much black as charcoal, it didn’t have the same sleekness that the Mustang had (and yes, Varen had looked at those, he was sixteen), and it was unashamedly retro. And it had those stupid pop-up headlights. However, there was a certain charm to it, being so dark and—there was no other way to put it—old-fashioned looking. He needed a chariot, if only to appeal to Kimberleigh Lacy, his Cleopatra.

“390 CID V8 engine, 10.5:1 compression ratio—which means it gets premium gasoline, so don’t scrimp,” Bruce continued. “She’s a beauty. And you’re gonna learn how to drive on her.”

“I can already drive,” Varen protested. He could. Kinda. His stepmother, Michelle, had taken him out in her Lexus a couple of times. To run to the grocery store.

“Not really,” Bruce said. “C’mere and look.” He opened the driver’s side door, and beckoned Varen closer. Okay, maybe he’d have to redefine luxury in a vehicle. The Cougar was pretty bleak and straight forwards. There was the barest hint of a center console between the two leather bucket seats in the front that ended well before the rod emerging from the floor in the center. The dash was pretty simple, even if it had likely been retrofitted sometime in the past thirty years. There was a back seat, but whoever rode back there would have to climb for it. There were no headrests. And there were three pedals in the driver’s footwell. “Clutch, brake, gas,” Bruce said, pointing to the pedals from left to right. “Left foot for the clutch, right for the other two.”

“And the doohickey in the middle?”

Bruce glared. He could have also been looking into the sun. “That ‘doohickey’ is the gearshift.” As if any idiot could figure it out.

“Park, reverse, neutral, drive, yeah? I can figure that out.”

“No. First, second, third, fourth, and reverse. Neutral’s in between the gears. And that lever there,” Bruce said, pointing, “is the parking brake. Very important. If you don’t use it when parking on a hill, she could roll away.”

Varen had seen a parking brake in Michelle’s Lexus. However, she never used it.

“I’ll drive her to a parking lot, and then it’s your turn.”

***

“What? A drive?” Isobel couldn’t quite keep the confusion from her voice.

“Of sorts. I was going to teach you how to drive stick.” Varen's voice was calm over the phone.

“Umm...”

“I talked with your dad about this, and he said it was okay, and well, I think you might enjoy it, so—.” He caught himself before he started to ramble. “It’s fun.”

“When were you planning to get here?”

“I’m out front.”

 _Oh shit._ “Be right out,” Isobel said, vaulting up from her curl on the couch. She ended the call, grabbed her wallet and sunglasses and started heading out the door.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Danny had paused the game and moved to lean against the wall near the front door.

“Varen and I are going on a date.”

“A date. With driving.” Danny raised an eyebrow. “Wow. So impressed. Thought this wasn’t the Fifties.”

“He’s going to teach me how to drive. Stick,” Isobel mumbled.

“He’s brave. Remember that time, with Mrs. Vance—”

“Shut up about that time! I was in the clear!” Isobel hissed. “Look. I’ll have my phone, and I’ll call if we end up changing plans.”

“Yeah, okay. At least, you might end up being better.” Danny shrugged and went back to his video game.

***

“Now. Shifting. Clutch, shift, gas, go. If you want to reverse, like in automatics, you want to be stopped. Reverse is down— _down_ down—and to the far right.” Bruce instructed in his gravelly voice. They were in a pretty deserted parking lot, with a slight slope to it. “So, Varen, reverse out of this spot.”

Varen moved the knob. Back, down, right, Like the faded pattern on the knob said. Nothing happened.

“Are you on the clutch?”

He checked his feet. “No.”

“Get your foot on the clutch. Push it all the way down.” Bruce glared as Varen depressed the clutch. “This is a slightly forgiving clutch, but the point is lower than I’d like it to be. Put the pedal to the floor.” Varen complied. “Now, put the car in reverse.” Varen did that. “Ease up on the clutch a bit, and give her some gas. Not a lot! Some.”

Hands sweaty on the steering wheel, Varen backed the Cougar out of its parking space.

“Okay, you’ve done that. Now put her into first. Up, over to the left, and up again. Good. Still got the clutch in? We’re going to drive. Same as before. Ease up on the clutch, down on the gas.”

He did as Bruce instructed. The engine revved, coughed, and the car stopped.

***

Isobel looked around. Varen had driven her to an empty office parking lot. It was on a slight hill, and Varen had parked in one of the uphill parking spaces. He stopped the car, pulled the brake, and got out, leaving the keys in the ignition.

"Where is this?" she asked.

“Where I learned to drive. When Bruce taught me,” he replied, swallowing slightly. “Dad wasn’t really interested in teaching me. And well, Bruce wanted to give me the car. Here, get in on the driver’s side.”

“Okay.”

“Alright, your pedals are clutch—that’s the left pedal there—, brake, and accelerator. Left foot for the clutch. Gear shift here. You’ve got first, second, third, fourth, and reverse.”

“Okay.” Isobel slid into the driver’s seat. The leather was warm both from the sun and from Varen. “So what do I do now?” The car was off. “Turn the key?”

“Yep. And make sure you have the clutch depressed.”

Isobel turned the key, left foot pressing the pedal to the floor.

Varen’s hand drifted over hers, covering the knob of the shifter. It was a mirror of that day in the attic. “I'll guide your hand here. Now, let up on the clutch gently. And put the gas in.” Isobel shook a bit as she did as her boyfriend instructed. He guided her hand into reverse. She let up on the clutch, and the car started moving backwards. She got it out of the spot, and stopped.

“Now what?” she asked.

“Still got the clutch in? We go into first.” He moved her hand on the gearshift up and left. “Same as before to drive it. Easy up on the clutch, and down on the gas.” The engine revved, and the Cougar lept forwards. “Good. We’ll drive it around a bit.”

At some point, as the tachometer started to creep up near 3. “Shift into second,” Varen advised. “Get the clutch in.”

Isobel tapped the pedal, and Varen started moving her hand. There was a horrible squealing sound, and the engine was revving. She stomped on the brake. The car stopped.

***

“So.” Bruce said. “This is your first stall. Nothing to worry about. Good that you reacted to hit the brakes. Put the clutch in, and turn the ignition off.” Varen did so. “Alright, and we’ll turn it back on again. There we go. Still in first? Put it into neutral, you’ll feel that you can move the stick more. Put it back into first. Easy up on the clutch, down on the gas. And we’ll go again. Take all the time you need.”

***

Varen chuckled, drawing his free hand back through his hair. “Guess I should have mentioned that the Cougar doesn’t have a high clutch point. It’s easy to pop into neutral if you don’t have the clutch in, but to actually get into gear, you need the clutch.”

Isobel smiled nervously. _If this had been Brad’s car—._ “First time teaching some one?”

“Yeah. And I’m going off of what I remember Bruce saying.”

“Well, it’s my first time driving one of these.”

“But not the first time being in one.”

“You’re the only person I know who drives something like this.”

“What, a classic car?”

“Well, yeah, but nah. With something like this,” Isobel said, gesturing at the transmission.

“Really? Parents—.”

“Dad likes his Lexus too much, and Mom’s often resigned to a minivan. I drive a Civic. I mean, maybe they drove something like this when I was a kid, but that was a long time ago.”

“Brad drove a Mustang, right?”

“Yeah, but he didn’t really drive like you do. I mean, he didn’t have the gearshift here.”

Varen coughed something vaguely insulting as he stared out the windshield. But he turned to Isobel with a smile. “That’s alright. I’m sure we can make you a better driver than Brad. Okay, so to get going again, put the clutch all the way in, turn the car off, and then turn it back on again.”

***

“Shitshitshitshit,” Varen chanted as the Cougar rolled slowly downhill. It was moving backwards no matter how much he pressed the accelerator. He stomped on the brake, keeping the clutch in.

“You were doing fine,” Bruce said. “Just needed to give it more gas is all. Try it again.”

***

“Shitshitshit,” Isobel said as the Cougar started rolling downhill. She’d come to a stop on the slope, easy enough, but now—.

“Varen, what do I do?”

“More gas, less clutch.”

Isobel stomped on the gas, letting off the clutch. The car stalled.

“But not like that. Don’t want to pop the clutch.”

“Whaddya mean, ‘pop’?”

“Come off the clutch too fast. Let’s start again. Make sure we’re in first, first. You almost had it there.”

***

Later, Bruce drove Varen home. “Not bad,” Bruce said. “Same time next week.”

“Really?”

“Parents planning to get you a car, even though they’re supposed to be teaching you to drive?”

“Well, Michelle is—.”

“Enough said. Same time next week.”

***

“You did well, Isobel,” Varen said as they drove home in the midsummer’s evening.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Better than I did when I was learning.”

“That’s 'cause you were guiding me as I was shifting,” she replied, shoving at his shoulder.

“Was I?”

“Or were you looking for an excuse to hold my hand.”

“Was I?”

She snorted and rolled her eyes, but not before she caught a glimpse of his quick grin. She laced her fingers over his where they rested on the worn gear knob. “Thank you. Really. It’s not something you do every day.”

“What, have your boyfriend teach you how to drive.”

“No-o-o. Drive a whatchamacallit. Stick shift?” He nodded. “Besides, I doubt Brad would have let me touch his Mustang. Even if I already could drive it.”

“Because he drove automatic.” This comment was followed by a much more disparaging remark that would have sounded more at home coming out of Pinfeathers’ mouth.

“Still have something against Brad?”

“N—well, yeah. But this is mostly because he drove a muscle car, and didn’t have the proper transmission. He’s a meathead. Meatheads like cars. Ergo, if he drives the cool car, he should have the proper transmission.”

“Seems I need a Y-chromosome to understand,” Isobel said with an eyeroll.

“Nah. Just more experience driving a manual. And spending time in a classic pony car.”

“Like the Cougar?”

“Like the Cougar.”

**Author's Note:**

> If needed: tachometer=rpm gauge.  
> Yes, I took some liberties here. The ones pertaining to source material are: the year of the car, Lacy, and some of Varen's interests. The ones to the car: what the interior of the '67 Mercury Cougar GT (specifically, where the parking brake is) and what the clutch point would be. Everything else is as true as what the internet tells me it is, or what experience tells me it is. And the fact that Varen can listen to CDs in a car made in the late 60s.
> 
> So yeah. I (sometimes) drive manual transmission vehicles. I find it to be really fun. And I think someone like Varen might enjoy it too, even if he isn't a gearhead. It might be something he'd want to share. So I had him teach Isobel. It also provided a good opportunity to build on the relationship that Varen and Bruce have with each other.
> 
> The Brad-bashing: for better or worse, my father drives a manual transmission Mustang, and I rather got used to it. It's fun, hearing the rev as one toggles into a higher gear. Part of the charm. I feel like Varen, who drives a car built on a similar chassis to the Mustang (the Cougar's longer) would probably hard-core judge Brad for *not* driving a manual (or standard) transmission car. While Isobel edited Varen's comments out (it is in her POV), they would probably be along the lines of "pansy."


End file.
